


But Your Temper's Just As Bad As Mine Is

by IvoryJaied



Category: Avenged Sevenfold
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-25
Updated: 2011-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvoryJaied/pseuds/IvoryJaied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian's has a terrible temper, but Zack's is just as bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Your Temper's Just As Bad As Mine Is

He was so easily pissed off. One tiniest mistake, and he’s off. This time, it was over a dropped glass.

‘It was my fuckin’ favourite, cunt!’ He roared in my face, towering over me, fist raised, poised to hit me. Normally, I’d flinch back, or try to calm the situation, but I’d had enough. My temper was as hot as his was, and no way was I backing down.

‘There are twenty more like it!’ I yelled back, stepping closer, our noses almost touching. His ragged breath heaved across my face.  
‘They look the fucking same!’

‘Do I give a fuck?! That was _my_ cup!’ He screamed, shoving my chest. I stumbled back, catching my footing. I shoved him back, just as hard, watching him stumble like I had.

‘Don’t touch me! You have no fucking right!’ I snapped, picking up a coffee mug that sat beside me. It happened to be one of the many Brian used, and claimed to be his favourite.  
‘You want something to cry about?’ I asked, slamming the mug to the ground, watching the ceramic smash against the kitchen floor.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?!’ He demanded, staring at the broken cup on the floor.

‘What’s wrong with _me_?! You’re fuckin’ sulking over cups!’ I yelled, stepping around the shattered pieces of porcelain, retreating to the lounge room, away from potential torn skin.

‘I’m not done with you, Zack!’ Brian yelled after me, gripping my forearm and turning me to face him. I shoved his chest again, my jaw clenched.  
‘You break my shit and expect to get away with it?’ He snapped, reaching over to the heater, where one of my picture frames sat, a picture of me and my Dad, before he died, behind the glass.  
‘Lets see how you fucking feel!’ He raised his arm, slamming the glass frame to the ground. The metal frame held, but the tinted glass that made the frame shattered into a million pieces.  
If I wasn’t so angry and fired up, I’d have cried.

‘You mother fucker! That was the only fucking picture I have of him!’ I screamed, picking up the closet thing to me and pegging it at his head. Luckily, for him, he ducked just in time. The snow globe I’d picked up smashed against the opposite wall, the water inside leaking down into the couch.  
‘I would _never_ destroy anything personal to you!’ I yelled, pointing at him while glaring.

‘Those cups were personal!’ He screamed back. I shook my head, fists clenched at my side.

‘They’re cups, Brian! They can be fucking replaced!’ Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the trophy Brian’d won in high school for a science award. He seemed to know my plans before I could move.

‘Don’t you fucking dare!’ He seethed, teeth clenched together.  
I smirked at him as I picked up the trophy, gripping the base of it.

‘ _This_ is what you call personal. Fair is fucking fair,’ I whispered, throwing the trophy at the closest wall, watching the plastic and wood separate and snap.  
‘Cut the shit, Brian. I’m not arguing with you anymore.’ I turned to leave, wishing to be in the sanctuary of our bedroom, just for some space.  
As I was leaving, something smashed against the wall, right by my head. I looked down at the floor, seeing the lamp I’d bought in Italy when we were on vacation. I’d bought it because the entire thing was in the shape of a dragon.

‘We’re not done, Zack. Far from it,’ Brian said, arms crossed over his chest.

‘I’m done, Brian. Break everything of mine. I don’t care,’ I murmured, pressing my fingers to my temples, trying to easy the frustration, and the on coming headache, away.  
I picked up my keys and my phone from the hallway table, ready to leave. That was, until I heard a familiar strumming sound. I turned, and stopped.

‘Walk out that door, I dare you,’ he snapped, gripping the neck of my beloved guitar tightly. I took a step back, glaring at him. He wouldn’t.  
‘One more step,’ he warned. I stepped back again.  
He shrugged and lifted the guitar over his head, reefing it to the ground, where it cracked. He lifted it again, and brought it to the floor again. This time, the body cracked and broke, the neck snapping off. He dropped the guitar to the floor, kicking it.

‘You fucking cunt,’ I seethed, ready to hit him. But then I thought again, and turned into the lounge room. I picked up the large candelabra from the corner of the room, driving the base of it through Brian’s large aquarium. Water flooded out, along with glass, fish and rocks. They all pooled around my feet, the fish flapping on the floor.

‘Zack! Those fish are worth a _fortune_!’ He screamed, trying to pick them up from the floor. I stood on his hand, dropping the candelabra.

‘That guitar was my life, you arsehole!’ I snapped, kicking his shoulder so he fell against the wet carpet.  
I straddled his body, punching him in the face once. Then again. And again. I kept hitting him until he bled, my fist swinging harder and harder each time.  
‘Have some fucking respect!’ I screamed in his face, panting above him.  
Brian gripped my throat, throwing my over and covering my body with his. One hand held my neck, chocking me, while the other swung back, smashing into my face. My jaw crunched, my lip split, my breather came out labored.  
I brought my knee up, crushing his balls.  
While he whined in pain, I crawled out from underneath him, kicking his stomach once I was standing. He curled up, coughing. I kicked him again, spitting blood on the floor.

‘Respect? You call kicking a man when he’s down r-respect?’ He heaved, getting to his hands and knees.

‘Maybe it’ll knock some fucking sense into you,’ I panted, doubling over with my hands on my knees, trying to get my breath back.

‘I’ll knock some sense into you,’ Brian grunted, tackling me into the coffee table that was behind me. The wood snapped underneath our weight, everything that was on top catapulted across the room.  
I lay, panting, on the broken wood, splinters poking my flesh. My back ached, my head pounded. Brian lay on top of me, his breathing slowly regulating.  
Slowly, hesitating slightly, I wrapped one arm around Brian’s shoulders. His body relaxed on top of mine.  
‘’m sorry,’ he mumbled into my stomach, his body tensing as he pushed himself up. Blood dribbled down his chin, and a patch stained the front of my shirt. I tried pushing myself up, but a sharp pain in my back stopped me. I groaned, my face screwing up in pain.  
‘Oh, fuck! Zacky, I’m really, really sorry,’ Brian murmured, leaning over me to cup my cheek.

‘Help me up,’ I whispered, gripping his hand.  
Brian stood, and reached for my hands, reefing me up quickly, wrapping his arms around me, and holding me to his chest.  
I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to ignore the pain digging at my back.  
‘I hate fighting with you, B. I love you,’ I mumbled into his neck.

‘I love you too,’ he whispered, slowly helping me to the bedroom, where he lay me down.  
We’d clean everything later. I’d wash our clothes and scrape up the broken glass. Some things were irreplaceable, but that was all set aside.  
Brian and I fought like cats and dogs, but I loved him, and I learned to deal with his moods, even if they did cause me pain.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Eminem and Rihanna's "Love The Way You Lie".
> 
> Old story remastered.


End file.
